Editor's Note: Return to Cambridge

Pardon my Foucault, but every one of us does indeed dwell in a panopticon. This surveillance of each of us by one another is relentless--not to mention entirely mutual.

For me, Mt. Auburn Street is the pinnacle of this violation. A broad open catwalk with unlimited perches presents various balconies with premium views: the Office for the Arts, Let's Go, Claverly steps, the Lampoon, the Spee, the Phoenix and the Fly among others. Hillel? Don't tell me M. Foucault wouldn't have something to say about that.

The prison of the avenue gives others a disproportionate power in our lives, even if they are not there. We internalize the idea of being watched, of people seeing, judging and noting of us, to the extent that our behavior is controlled, but we are simultaneously victims and perpetrators. There is nowhere to hide. In short, Harvard is a pomo dream: you are who your friends are, where you go, where you eat. I'm sorry--for me, this doesn't cut it.

My break came last semester when I studied abroad in Paris. Sure, it's easy to idealize this little vacation, but it certainly had definite merits; namely, I was independent. Irreducible to a group. The anonymity of a city allows for wholeness and complexity. It felt like freedom.

Not that I have any answers. The challenge is: how do we live with others? After all, human connection is why I think we are here. This new-found radical individualism in me thinks Calvin has it right: can't we all Just Be?

I know I sound like a philosophe living under an illusion. My point is this: it's too easy let yourself be defined by others and to work the same magic back on them. Moreover, it's debilitating and degrading for both sides. Even if it's an illusion, I relish the chance to return to my modern self, who forges her own way, or at least feels that she does. I am not a misanthrope--I love my friends and my family. To diminish their contribution to the richness of my life and mine to theirs would be a sacrilege, but it's also nice to feel independent. For two years at Harvard, I had forgotten this feeling.

I am back and ready to rock, with a single message to relay: take a break from Harvard and the Mt. Auburn balconies. You can tear yourself away.